Read Online Her Every Wish by Courtney Milan - Free Book Online Page B

“It’s a halfpenny. Tell me, Miss…” She trailed off.
    The woman inhaled. “It’s missus, actually.” Her eyes shut. “Mrs. Wilde. My Jonas passed away five years ago, and…”
    â€œMrs. Wilde,” Daisy said softly, “is there anyone who believes you’re worth a halfpenny of beauty any longer?”
    The woman shook her head.
    â€œWell, then.” Daisy gave her a nod. “Maybe the person who needs to believe it is you.”
    Daisy had done this before, convincing a reluctant woman to bring a little beauty into her life. She’d never felt guilty about it—but now she did. She could almost imagine Crash standing behind her, whispering in her ear.
    My, you are good at lying to yourself. Listen to you.
    She wasn’t lying to herself. She wasn’t. She did bring a little beauty into these women’s lives; if she didn’t, why did they all come back? Why would they bring their friends?
    â€œI shouldn’t.” But Mrs. Wilde hadn’t relinquished the tulip.
    â€œWhere do you work?”
    Mrs. Wilde sighed. “The apothecary down the way. I weigh and measure for him and track his receipts.” Her mouth pinched. “I keep track of whatever fine remedy is in vogue, make sure it’s ordered and on the shelves. This month, it’s the carbolic smoke ball.”
    Those damned carbolic smoke balls again.
    â€œSo you help hundreds of people take their medicine and get well,” Daisy said.
    â€œThat’s…one way of looking at it.”
    â€œI’d never tell you to spend money you don’t have,” Daisy said sympathetically. “But if you’re saying you don’t deserve this, with all that you do…?”
    She let her words hang.
    Mrs. Wilde looked at the tulip. She glanced down at her hands, out the door, and then back to the tulip. Then she gave a fierce little nod.
    â€œHere.” She opened her purse and removed a coin. “Take it before I change my mind.”
    It was worth it for the smile she saw on Mrs. Wilde’s face as she left the shop. Daisy was selling happiness. Temporary happiness, very likely, but was there any other kind? Poor women deserved flowers as much as rich ones—more so, in fact. They had that much less beauty in their lives.
    Daisy went back to making bouquets, but bouquet-tying was delicate work, and her fingers jerked the twine a bit too hard. She wasn’t lying to herself, and she hadn’t lied to Mrs. Wilde. She hadn’t. Rich women were taught that their every wish would be granted. Women like Daisy? Like Mrs. Wilde? They were allowed nothing. They weren’t even supposed to properly wish, not for anything worth having. They were allowed to subsist, and then only if they were lucky and useful.
    Daisy wasn’t lying to herself. She was just making it possible to get through one day and then the next, to find the little moments that made it possible to not dread her future.
    That future loomed closer than ever.
    Sunday. She’d promised her mother to start encouraging gentleman on Sunday. The very idea left her cold. No wonder she was wasting time submitting applications for a charity bequest. She wanted to believe she had a chance to get away.
    She wasn’t that naïve.
    Daisy stared at her violets. They were just as pretty and just as purple as they’d been a few moments before.
    â€œI don’t lie to myself,” she told them. “I know the truth all too well.”
    They looked up at her. Purple petals faded to white in the center, with a dot of yellow. Flowers couldn’t really look. They didn’t have eyes. So why did this batch seem to glower at her in disapproval?
    She switched from making bouquets of violets to working with tulips. Putting a good face on things wasn’t lying. She told herself the truth with scrupulous regularity. She was running out of time.
    Running out of time to establish herself,